


iron and fire and poison

by Arianne, patrexes



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Exhibitionism, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Kinktober 2019, Overstimulation, Psychological Torture, Threats of Violence, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/pseuds/Arianne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes
Summary: “I was under the impression you weren’t allowed to lay hands on a citizen of the Empire,” spat Minfilia bas Warde.





	iron and fire and poison

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [love at ever and ever sight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843534) by [patrexes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes). 

> prompt: vibrators. fun fact: minfilia is, according to the lorebook, a garlean citizen by way of her father! how very useful for someone in her position.
> 
> takes place 10 days after [love at ever and ever sight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843534).

“I was under the impression you weren’t allowed to lay hands on a citizen of the Empire,” spat Minfilia bas Warde, shackled to her chair in the guards’ anticipation of Livia’s arrival. After a full week in solitary confinement she still held her head high in defiance, perhaps a brave face for her subordinates—but Livia did not think it her imagination that some of the spite which had colored their first meetings had crumbled. 

“I don’t intend to lay hands,” Livia said. With her helmet on, her self-satisfied smile wasn’t visible, but certainly Minfilia could hear it in her voice. “I thought about you often in your time away. As you’ve insisted on reminding us, the law is _so_ strict.” Livia’s conduct must be beyond reproach, Gaius had insisted, should she wish to keep the duty, some anti-military political faction in the capital too eager to exploit any citizen’s “mistreatment” at the XIVth’s hands to take chances—even should it mean the less effective interrogation of a known terrorist. “Luckily for the both of us, I believe I’ve finally found a viable solution.” 

The prisoners’ heads followed her as she bent at the waist to set down the first of the items in her hands: a battery the size of a music box, which her engineers had assured her capable of powering a vibrator for nearly a bell. She doubted highly even Minfilia’s apparently _iron_ will could withstand it for half that time—Livia had used her own for at most several minutes—and that only if the humiliation did not make quick work of her. Truly, Livia hoped it would. She had already tired of this; let her not suffer further for some boorish rules of _conduct_. 

Minfilia flinched when Livia set her hand on the chair, looming from her full height. In another moment, another context, that might have been gratifying: now it was only an annoyance. There was no reason for bas Warde to fear her touch—the pain it could inflict. She was off-limits, and afeared despite it. How _pathetic_. This was the Scions’ intrepid leader? A woman cowering beneath her as Livia simply set the head of a vibrator between her legs? 

“You—you can’t _do_ that!” came a shrill voice to her left: the Lalafellin woman. She rattled her chains as though trying to wave her arms, stretched above her head to bind her hands to a ring set into the wall. The other Lalafell hissed at her to _hush_, and the Elezen shuffled half a sidestep to hide her behind the length of his coat. 

Livia sighed. “Can’t I? It won’t _hurt_ her.” She giggled, high-pitched and rounded with static through her helm. “Just the opposite, in fact,” she said with a tilt of her head, and thumbed the switch on. 

Mere _seconds_ later Minfilia’s shudders shook her chair, and she cried out in what could only be climax—Livia would have recognized _pain_. She had thought of it often enough in the previous week, when she had not so much as visited her charge: whether Minfilia would whine, or sob, or _scream_ should Livia cut the cloth from her chest and slice into ribs bruised in the so-called struggle of her capture. Livia could open her nipples on her gunbagnakhs’ edges, watch her bleed over her tits and stain her skin down to her skirt. Gaius had spent the last nights with Nero, perfecting their Ultima Weapon; with Livia unable to warm his bed she had found her relief in such thoughts, clutching her own vibrator hard to her clit. 

While bound Minfilia could not so much as writhe to relieve or even _change_ the pressure, and after several minutes and as many climaxes she had begun to cry, choking on her own tears. Livia kept a steady hand, holding the vibrator in place as it began to slip on the mess Minfilia was making of herself. 

“You need only say the word,” Livia taunted, “and I’ll go play with one of the others.” Her voice betrayed her hope that Minfilia would let slip a _no_, that Livia could then follow through on her threat. 

She hadn’t decided yet which one of the peregrines would receive her attention first. Not the old man—there was no fun in that—but the young woman held promise, clearly a non-combatant and with the others _so_ protective when Livia so much as glanced in her direction. They would look on in horror as Livia cut her open or snapped those fragile little bones one by one, helpless to stop her. But then, forcing reactions out of her would be so easy—even _too_ easy—and she knew little enough about Lalafell, or how much blood loss one can endure. It would hardly do to kill the girl before she’d had her fun. The Elezen was another matter: she could paint the room in his blood to the sound of his screams. Surely Minfilia would sing before Livia could crack enough ribs to cut out his heart. 

Livia had imagined this scene: Minfilia, being a woman proud to her own detriment, would refuse to beg her to stop, even as pleasure mutated into something worse than pain with that unrelenting pulse of the motor against her clit. In private, perhaps, she would break earlier, with the promise that it need never get back to her ever-so-loyal hangers-on, but with them _watching_… bas Warde would hold out until incoherent, until _no_ was the only thing she _could_ say and was barely cognizant of it. 

But a no was still, of course, a no, and once voiced the promise would hold true: never let Livia Gaii sas Junius be taken as a woman who did not keep her word. So Minfilia would be locked up into that chair with her legs spread and traitorous cunt soaking through those thin leggings and she would have to watch as Livia cut into her subordinates—her _friends_. 

She would not break quickly. She _would_ break, everyone _did_, but whether it was ethics or only self-interest in the guise of it, Minfilia bas Warde would like as not last several bells before eventually tiring of hearing her friends’ screams. Then she would tell Livia about the Echo—admit in the same breath to _having_ it, proof she was in the thrall of an eikon, an instant revocation of her birthright—and Livia could _lay hands upon_ Minfilia _aan_ Warde as much as she wished. She would return to Gaius’ quarters bloodied and triumphant, give him the information the Emperor so desperately sought—and as poor in health as the old man was, still not having named his heir, and ever favoring her father… No, it was foolhardy to dream of such a lofty goal, no matter how feasible. It was enough that Gaius would be proud of her, adhering strict to the letter of all those _stupid_ laws, and he had rewarded her so well already for only taking the damn woman captive. 

Perhaps this time, once she had won this for him, he would cave and spend in the hollow socket of her eye as she had begged him for so long. 

But rarely did events transpire as they did in daydreams. Minfilia sobbed, and screamed, and thrashed so violently in her bonds that blood dripped from cuts in her ankles from fighting the straps, fruitless to escape Livia’s delicate ministrations; she mouthed _please, please_ and desperate prayers to her eikon god, the Eorzeans’ so-called Mother. But she did not once say _no_. 

Eventually, the portable battery’s charge depleted, and the vibrator’s motor sputtered and died. Livia hissed through her teeth, a soft noise the mic in her helmet picked up and transmuted into a monstrous sort of sound, loud in the sudden, jarring silence, and let the thing fall to the floor. 

Minfilia was sobbing, face all red and her leggings soaked through with a puddle on the seat of the chair—whether she was a squirter or had pissed herself, Livia neither knew nor cared—and broken she may have been… but not the broken that Livia _needed_ of her, and with a growing fury that burned bright in her heart and behind her eyes, Livia backhanded the bitch. 

She felt better for it near-instantly. “Your resilience is laudable,” she said. “Truly, I’m impressed!” And with a smile for Minfilia to hear once more, bright and full of expectation: “Tomorrow, then, my dear?”


End file.
